Taped
by Mayle
Summary: John has become the one person that can restrain Sherlock. In this case, the restraints manifest themselves in the form of duct tape.
1. Chapter 1

John wasn't quite sure how the idea came to him. One day he just snapped and stomped into the other room. Apparently Sherlock hadn't noticed because when John remerged the man was still ranting about whatever and the hell he'd been ranting about. John strode forward with the strip of duct tape and slapped it across Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock looked up at him in surprise.

"Finally!" John shouted, "I can hear myself think!"

Sherlock scowled at him (though it wasn't easy around the duct tape) and reached up to rip it off. John grabbed his hand before he could do it. He glared deep into Sherlock's eyes.

"You had better not," he said in low, dangerous tone.

John could feel Sherlock's pulse jump under his fingertips and Sherlock's eyes had dilated. John smirked. Sherlock was afraid. Good. Then he dropped the detective's hand and went back to his chair. He picked up his book and resumed reading. He was aware of the glares Sherlock was throwing him and it just made him happier.

* * *

A few days later, Lestrade texted with a case. Sherlock held the phone up in front of John. John read the text and looked up at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock was giving him a questioning look. John grinned. Sherlock was asking if he could go.

"Let's go," John said, getting up and grabbing his coat.

They were at the crime scene and out the cab when Sherlock halted suddenly and turned around. John stopped and backed up a few steps. Sherlock pointed at the tape and gave him a pleading look. John grinned again.

"No way in hell," he said.

Sherlock eyes seemed panicked for a moment, but then he calmed. He spun on his heel and marched into the crime scene, John following after him with a huge grin on his face. Sherlock immediately located Lestrade and hurried over to him. John followed close behind, not wanting to miss anything. Sherlock tapped Lestrade on the shoulder. Lestrade turned around, looking up from his notepad.

"Ah, Sherlock, we think this might-what are you wearing on your face?" Lestrade squinted at Sherlock, "Is that duct tape?"

Johns stepped forward.

"He's not allowed to talk right now," John said brightly in explanation, "Please, go on with the details."

Lestrade rolled his eyes and launched into the case. Sherlock listened closely as he walked around the room. When Andersen entered, Sherlock's head whipped up to say something witty and rude, but the tape prevented it. Sherlock scowled and John felt pretty happy about that.

"New experiment?" Andersen questioned in an almost friendly tone.

Sherlock looked up in confusion and his eyes flicked to John. Andersen followed the look.

"Ah, lover's quarrel then," Andersen said in what sounded like understanding.

John's grin vanished as quickly as it had come. His eyebrows furrowed.

"No," he said firmly, "Sherlock was just being annoying so I put duct tape on his mouth."

"Right," Anderson said, looking back to the crime scene.

Sherlock and John shared a confused look as Andersen went about doing his job. A few minutes later Donovan walked in and told Lestrade someone was outside for him. Sherlock's face looked strained as his eyes quickly scanned Donovan. He looked to John and his eyes pleaded with the older man. John shook his head.

"No," he stated firmly, causing Andersen and Donovan to jump.

"What's with the tape, freak?" Donovan said as she noticed it.

Sherlock glared ice daggers at her, but she didn't seem fazed. John noted the angry look she threw at Andersen before she moved forward to continue her attack on Sherlock.

"Experiment? Or trying to prove something?" Donovan questioned in a cold tone, "All it's doing is proving is that you're even more of a freak than I thought."

John opened his mouth to defend Sherlock, but the other man straightened up to his full height and glowered at Donovan with an unspoken threat. Donovan took an involuntary step backwards. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and John could see the tape twitch upwards on one side. He was clearly smirking. John had never felt so proud of the man before.

"Sherlock, do you have what you need?" Andersen asked, standing up from where he'd been on the floor (he was apparently unaware of the fight that had just happened).

As he stood, he noticed the tension in the air and Donovan's glare turned to him. John suddenly realized that they'd had something of a fight. Clearly Andersen was calmer about the fight. This meant he'd told her something that outraged her. John thought back to the way Andersen had talked smoothly with Sherlock and the way his face looked when he said "lover's quarrel". He hadn't looked as though he was disgusted or outraged at John and Sherlock. He'd actually looked happy for them and almost…envious? Did that mean…? He looked at Sherlock with a question in his eyes and Sherlock nodded curtly.

"Listen, Donovan," John said, his face turning to the woman and his jaw setting, "Just because you have a problem with Andersen being gay doesn't mean you can come in here and be a bitch."

Donovan sputtered a bit and Andersen blushed slightly, bowing his head sheepishly.

"Oh great!" Donovan shouted, "Now there are two of you!"

With that she stormed away and John smiled again. He looked at Sherlock who nodded and tried to say something, but the tape prevented it.

"You can take if off now," John said.

Sherlock reached up and eagerly ripped the tape from his mouth.

"This was done by the florist's brother," Sherlock said, gesturing to the crime scene, "And you are brilliant!"

Sherlock was beaming at John with a proud look in his eyes. John blushed a bit.

"Thanks, Sherlock," he said quietly.

They held each other's gaze for a few moments before Andersen cleared his throat. They turned to him and he was looking around awkwardly.

"I really don't think you guys should do what you're thinking about doing in here," he said quietly.

"Good thinking," Sherlock said, coming forward and hugging the man.

John and Andersen stared in shock as the detective released the other man and started for the door. John hurried forward to follow him. Sherlock strode towards the main street to hail a cab and John struggled to keep up. When they made it to the curb, Sherlock threw his arm out and turned back to John.

"I should shut up more," Sherlock observed, "You are full of surprises."

John grinned at him as a cab came to a halt in front of them.

"Doesn't that mean you'll be wearing tape more often?" John questioned cheekily as they slid into the cab.

Sherlock turned to him to say something, but thought better of it. He looked out the window with his eyebrows furrowed. John could tell by the blank look that Sherlock was somewhere deep in his mind palace. He saw Sherlock's hand move on his lap and saw that the detective was still clutching the strip of duct tape. John frowned, wondering what that was about.

* * *

**Little note: So yeah...Have this. ^_^ **


	2. Chapter 2

"John, this is ridiculous!" Sherlock said in an urgent tone.

"You brought this upon yourself," John said, as he ripped piece of tape off.

Sherlock snorted as John secured the tape around Sherlock's wrist. Sherlock was now taped by his wrist to his headboard. This might have been sexy, but it wasn't since Sherlock had more important things to do.

"You need to sleep, Sherlock," John said for the millionth time.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and launched into a rant about his body only being a transport. John silenced him by slapping another piece of tape across his mouth. Sherlock's eyes widened and dilated once again and John gave him a satisfied smirk.

"Now, go to sleep!" he commanded as he left the room.

About an hour later, John came in to check on Sherlock and saw that he was fast asleep. John was rather satisfied with that and used a pair of scissors to cut Sherlock free from the headboard. The man stirred a bit, but stayed asleep. John figured he'd sleep for a while, considering he'd been awake for almost three and a half days.

* * *

Sherlock entered the living room and slumped down on the couch, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. John looked up to see that the other man still had the duct tape on his mouth. Sherlock didn't seem overly bothered by the duct tape as he pulled John's computer onto his lap. John admired the image of Sherlock in duct tape for a few moments before Sherlock looked up from the computer and furrowed his eyebrows together.

"What?" John questioned, loving the way Sherlock struggled for a moment to find a way to answer.

Finally the detective looked down at the computer and then back at John. John raised an eyebrow at him and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He jabbed his finger at the computer and then at John. John was starting to get the drift, but continued to pretend to be oblivious. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and waved John over.

"Don't use that tone with me," John said as he walked over and settled down next to Sherlock.

Sherlock turned the computer on his lap towards John. John peeked at the screen to see that he was still on the password screen.

"What?" John repeated, "What am I supposed to see?"

Sherlock made a muffled frustrated noise and pointed at the box for the password. Then he pointed at John. John was still slightly confused until Sherlock lifted his hands and placed them on the keyboard. The realization hit John and he pulled his hands away.

"No way!" John exclaimed, "You can't figure out the password?!"

Sherlock scowled at him, though John could see red forming on his face. Sherlock took John's hands and place them on the keyboard again. John again pulled them away.

"Oh, no, Sherlock," John said in an amused voice, "When you do something good, you get a reward. When you do something bad, you get a punishment. And since I can't remember the last time you did something good for me, that wasn't absolutely necessary, you don't get the password."

Sherlock scowled at him and his eyes began to calculate. John laughed at him again and took his laptop, closing the lid. He put it back on the table and went to the kitchen. Sherlock followed. John looked over his shoulder as Sherlock seemed to debate what he should do. John continued about making a cup of tea.

Sherlock came forward and took what was in his hands. John raised an amused eyebrow at him and Sherlock gave him a pointed look. John grinned and leaned up. Before he really realized what he was doing, he kissed Sherlock on the cheek where the duct tape was. He took the things from Sherlock and waved him back.

"The thought is enough, Sherlock," John said, "Even though you're just doing it because you want something. But we both know that you'll ruin the tea."

Sherlock gave him a pained and confused look and left the kitchen. John grinned, wondering what would be next on Sherlock's list of Nice Things to do in Order to Get the Password.

* * *

"Sherlock, who taught you how to do this?" John groaned.

Sherlock said nothing, but instead continued to knead his hands into John's back. John looked back to check if Sherlock had the tape on. He was pretty sure he didn't, but Sherlock was being silent. As he looked back at Sherlock's concentrated face he noticed that it was devoid of tape.

"You aren't talking," John stated.

Sherlock looked at him.

"Do you wish for me to talk?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I haven't put tape on you yet, have I?" John answered in question.

He saw Sherlock shiver slightly.

"You know, if you really don't like it…" John looked at Sherlock's unreadable face, "I don't have to do it. It just happened the first time and seemed to work, so I kept doing it. But I don't have to if you're really that afraid."

Sherlock's hands froze and John practically whimpered at the loss. Then Sherlock started up again, looking back to what he was doing.

"I don't mind," he whispered so quietly John was afraid it'd just been the wind.

John watched Sherlock as he worked his hands over John's aching back.

"How long am I going to get you to do nice things for me?" John asked in an amused voice.

"As long as you want, is suppose," Sherlock answered, "You are the one in power."

John rather liked the sound of that.

"Alright, get off me," John said, rolling away from Sherlock's hands.

Sherlock looked almost disappointed as he settled his hands in his own lap.

"Sherlock, it should be easy to guess," John said, concern filling his voice, "The most important thing in my life is the password."

Sherlock looked at him and his eyebrows came together.

"I don't know what that is, John," Sherlock said in a sad voice.

"Then you're blind or stupid," John retorted.

"It's one of those really obvious sentimental things, isn't it?" Sherlock sighed.

John sighed and sat up. He sat cross-legged across from Sherlock. Sherlock frowned at him.

"The password is something I would die for," John said, "Something that takes up most of my time. It's something that I drop everything for. It's something that I rescue a lot…perhaps you will get it if I rephrase. The password is the most important _person_ in my life."

Sherlock's eyes suddenly came to a clear focus.

"It's my name," he said quietly.

John leaned forward and petted Sherlock's head for a moment

"Good boy," John whispered.

He saw Sherlock shiver again. Sherlock leapt from the bed and ran to the living room, presumably to find John's laptop and type in the password. He heard a shout of triumph and smiled widely. He stretched out on his back for a few moments before rolling off the bed and walking out to congratulate Sherlock with a cup of tea.

As he came into the living room, Sherlock slammed the lid of the laptop down and looked up at him innocently. John rolled his eyes.

"You should look at porn on your own laptop," John said, stretching a bit.

He looked at Sherlock blushing and looking away.

"Oi! You actually were looking at porn!" John shouted, "You're going to get my computer infected! Go down to a store and buy something if you must! Damn, Sherlock, I just got the computer fixed last month after you dumped tea on it."

Sherlock looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Where would I go?" Sherlock questioned.

John blushed, realizing he was talking about porn with his best friend and flatmate.

"Go to Cirque," John said as evenly as he could muster.

"Would you go with me?" Sherlock asked.

John looked at those wide, innocent eyes and almost said yes.

"No! That's crazy!" John burst out, "Your porn, you buy it. You don't take your friends on porn shopping trips."

Sherlock looked away hesitantly.

"I've never bought any before," he said quietly.

John instantly felt guilty. Sherlock must be in some sort of delayed adolescent stage and he had no one else to turn to.

"Alright, alright, quit looking like a kicked puppy," John said in a tired voice, "I'll go with you just this once."

Sherlock brightened up and smiled widely at John. That was enough for John to decide he'd made the right choice.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock apparently thought adult stores were very fascinating. He looked around with wide eyes and wanted to touch everything (much to John's embarrassment). Finally, he had to grab Sherlock's arm as he reached for something else.

"If you keep touching everything," John said in a low voice, "I will duct tape your hands together."

Sherlock shivered and nodded, promptly shoving his hands in his pocket. John tried to be professional and calm about the whole thing, but Sherlock insisted on seeing every last item in the shop. This included dildos, vibrators, costumes, lube, cock rings, _everything. _But at least he wasn't touching everything any more. Sherlock halted in front of a shelf that mostly held dildos. John blushed and looked away, wishing there was a way to escape this mad man.

"John, what is the function of these items?" Sherlock asked, his head tilting to the side.

John sighed and put his bravest foot forward.

"It's sort of like having someone else's cock without the someone else part," John stated as clearly as he could.

"Ah, I see," Sherlock said, turning back to the shelf, "How very convenient!"

John rolled his eyes as Sherlock looked through them.

"Why are they different sizes?" Sherlock asked.

"Different people like different sizes," John answered.

"Why are there so many different colors? Why don't they just make it look real?"

"I think making it look real freaks people out. You know: normal people that don't like detached body parts."

"What is this-WHOA!"

John laughed at the comical way Sherlock's eyes went wide. He's pressed the controls for one of the vibrator dildos without realizing what it was. John threw a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sherlock continued to play with the controls.

"This is genius!" Sherlock said brightly.

John giggled a bit and plucked the thing from Sherlock's hands. He placed it on the shelf and dragged Sherlock over to the part of the store that contained what they'd actually come for. Sherlock stared at the rows of porn with rapt fascination. Sherlock's hand came out to touch one of the videos, but he froze as his fingertips hovered, barely not touching the cover. He looked back at John, who raised an eyebrow at him and put his hand back in his pocket. John remembered his earlier threat.

"It's ok, since this is what we came for," John said, smiling lightly.

Sherlock hesitated a second longer before bringing his hand back up and running it across the covers of the videos. John waited patiently, thinking about how old his own small porn collection was. _Maybe I could just…._he shook his head firmly; he was entirely too old to be buying porn. But then again, porn was meant for one purpose; no matter what age…he was drawn from his thoughts when Sherlock waved a hand in front of his face. John smiled as he noticed Sherlock was clutching one of the videos to his chest.

"Ready to go then?" John asked brightly.

He held his hand out for the tape, but Sherlock clutched it tighter to himself.

"Er…I don't want you to see," Sherlock said, shifting nervously.

"Oh," John stated, before the realization hit, "_Oh. _I won't make fun of you, you know."

Sherlock blushed and looked away.

"But you'll find things out that I don't want you to know," Sherlock replied quietly.

"What, that you're sadistic?" John joked, "I already know, Sherlock."

He started to laugh, but Sherlock was blushing furiously and shifting awkwardly.

"Oh," John stated again.

Sherlock looked at him in a rather irritated way and then stormed towards the front of the store. John stayed back and peeked through the racks and shelves. When Sherlock's, ahem, _item _was safely in a bag, John joined his friend up front. The cashier looked at John and back to Sherlock.

"Aww, that's so sweet," the cashier gushed, "Oh, you should just-."

"Shut your mouth before I sew your lips together!" Sherlock snapped.

He spun on his heel and stormed out of the place. John sighed heavily and started to join him.

"Hey, are you in the military by chance?" the cashier called to him.

John looked back to the man and finally actually looked at him. He was taller than John, but shorter than Sherlock. He had plain brown hair that lay smoothly on his head. There seemed to be nothing significant about him and yet he'd known John was in the military. How?

"How did you know that?" John demanded.

The man giggled in very girlish way.

"Just what your boyfriend bought is all," the guy answered.

John blushed and sputtered out a denial quickly leaving to join Sherlock on the road. _What did that mean? _He wondered briefly as he glanced at Sherlock who was clutching the bag tightly to his chest and trying to hail a cab. He looked curiously at the video in Sherlock's hand. It was mostly covered by the bag, so he could see nothing but the very corner. _Damn. _

The more he thought about what the cashier had said, the more he wanted to know what Sherlock had bought. As they arrived home, Sherlock immediately went to his room to hide the tape. John's curiosity rose even further as Sherlock came back out of his room and curled up on the couch.

"Don't even think about it," Sherlock mumbled from the couch.

"Think about what?" John asked innocently.

"Trying to find my porn," Sherlock answered, "I've told you already, I don't want you to see it."

"Is it really that bad?" John questioned, "I mean I could tell you some things about myself…"

John trailed off as Sherlock suddenly sat straight up. He looked away from the intensity of Sherlock's eyes on him. _Well, that was obviously a bad idea to say…_

"I'll show you, if you tell me about you," Sherlock said eagerly, his baritone voice seeming out of place for such a conversation.

John shifted uncomfortably under the stare of Sherlock's bright eyes.

"I obviously didn't think that through…" John muttered.

Sherlock leaned forward as though he might miss something important. John figured this was still part of that delayed adolescent stage. He tried to think of something to say that wouldn't be too revealing, but would satisfy Sherlock's curiosity. John squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his face with one hand. He knew he would regret any decision he would make, so he figured what the hell? Might as well give the man what he wants.

"What do you want to know, Sherlock?" John questioned cautiously.

The way Sherlock brightened made John wonder if he'd chose the right decision this time, but Sherlock's next question reaffirmed that Sherlock was in some sort of confusing adult puberty.

"I want to know what's normal," Sherlock stated clearly.

John's heart broke into a million pieces at that. But _you're not normal, Sherlock, _John's mind dared to whisper. He sighed heavily. He was not the person to ask about what was normal. He was far from the vanilla world when it came to sex. He tried to remember back to his younger experiences: the more normal ones. But did Sherlock want to know what was normal about fantasies or during sex or what? John was definitely not the person for this job…

"What exactly do you mean by that?" John questioned quietly.

"Well…" Sherlock frowned, "Is it normal to get erections in situations that don't seem necessarily sexual?"

_Definitely some sort of adult puberty, _John thought as he remembered thinking the same question back when he was a teenager.

"Yeah, I'd say so," John answered, thinking about all the awkward boners he'd had as a teen.

"What sexual situations do you conjure up in your head?" Sherlock asked his fingers steepling under his chin.

John narrowed his eyes at him. _Wait a minute…this is an experiment of some sort isn't it? Damn it Sherlock! _John scowled, mostly at himself for falling for the detective's act.

"You little shit," John said, "What are you doing?"

Sherlock looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"I don't know what you mean, John," the man said, but John could see how Sherlock's fingers came apart for the briefest of seconds.

"Seriously, Sherlock?" John demanded, "What is wrong with you?!"

Sherlock visibly winced at the words. John felt slightly guilty, but it didn't make him any less mad.

"What's this one about, hmm?" John questioned angrily, "Test and see how easy it is for me to give up personal information?"

Sherlock suddenly looked very guilty and John scowled at him.

"Sherlock! Why would you do that?!" John demanded.

"I just wanted to see what your limits were," Sherlock said his eyes downcast, "I just thought it would be useful to know if you would be empathetic towards someone and therefore divulge personal information."

John stood up and calmly walked forward.

"Hold out your hands," he said calmly.

Sherlock started to question John, but saw the dangerous look in his eyes. Sherlock held out his hands, palms down. John noticed the detective's eyes dilated and he looked flustered. John wasn't sure why he was so satisfied with scaring the other man, but he was. It was strangely calming to know that he had the power in the situation.

He reached forward and put Sherlock's hands together, palms touching. He then pulled the duct tape from his coat and wrapped it twice around Sherlock's wrists. Sherlock squirmed, his eyes wide. John ripped off the piece and secured it. The he ripped off another piece and pressed it across Sherlock's mouth. John leaned forward until he was nose to nose with Sherlock.

"Don't lie to me," John said in a low voice, "Don't experiment on me. I think this," he paused to tap Sherlock's bound wrists, "Will prevent you from experimenting at all until you learn your lesson. Don't you?"

Sherlock nodded quickly. John smirked.

"Good boy," he whispered and petted Sherlock on the head before returning to his seat.


	4. Chapter 4

John had cut the duct tape off Sherlock's hands after three days of the man being unable to do anything. Sherlock had immediately leapt off the couch and ran into his room. He didn't even wait for John to rip off the piece that covered his mouth. About an hour later, John heard the shower turn on. About thirty minutes after that, Sherlock emerged. He was clean, fully dressed, and his hair was slightly damp.

John looked at him and found himself smiling for no apparent reason. Sherlock came forward and knelt by John, lifting his face so his duct taped mouth was clearly shown. John got the drift and quickly pulled the tape off.

"I would've done it earlier," John muttered as he pulled on the tape gently, "But you ran off so quickly."

"I didn't want it off earlier," Sherlock burst as soon as the tape was off.

He jumped up and before John could ask what he'd meant by that, Sherlock launched into more rapid speech.

"Lestrade texted," Sherlock said, "Wehaveacaselet'sgoifwehurryAndersenwon'thaveruine dit!"

Then he ran off towards the door, grabbing his coat on the way. John rolled his eyes and followed the genius, who was still ranting about something.

* * *

Sherlock danced about the crime scene, quickly finding out who the murderer was. Lestrade pulled Sherlock off to talk to him about police things and that left John to stand awkwardly in the middle of a crime scene. John laughed slightly and shook his head. Andersen came by and gave him a smile, to which John responded in kind. He scanned the area for Sherlock and Lestrade and when he found them, he almost died.

Lestrade was backed against a brick wall, his face red and his hands in fists at his side. Sherlock was standing immediately in front of him with one hand firmly on the wall next to Lestrade's head. The other hand's fingertips were barely touching the space on the wall right next to Lestrade's waist. John was aware that he was gaping in a very unattractive manner, but he hardly cared.

And then, Sherlock leaned down closer to Lestrade's face. His lips were a breath away from the older man's. John felt something boil inside him. He could practically see Lestrade's morals crumbling and he did not like where this was going one bit. He was nearly sprinting as he came forward and grabbed Sherlock's arm, yanking him away from Lestrade.

"Sorry, Lestrade," John spat, "Sherlock has better things to occupy is mouth with than kissing you."

With that he dragged Sherlock away from the crime scene. He could feel anger coursing through him and was glad that Baker Street wasn't far off. He kept an iron grip on Sherlock's forearm and he patted down his pockets, searching for the roll of tape he now kept on him. He couldn't find it, which meant Sherlock nicked it. Which in turn meant that it was somewhere in Sherlock's room.

He made a beeline straight for Sherlock's room when they arrived to 221B and practically threw the man into it. He quickly scanned the room and located the most ideal place to hide a roll of duct tape. He finally found the roll in Sherlock's top drawer (apparently the detective thought John wouldn't miss it). He turned around, poised to rip off a mile length of tape and strap Sherlock to the bed so he could never, ever look like he was about to do what it looked like he was about to do. But when John's eyes found the other man he froze: every muscle in his body tensing as he stared down at Sherlock.

"Wh-what…what are y-you doing?!" John demanded shakily.

Sherlock's eyes opened and one of his eyebrows rose, but other than that he didn't move. John felt his heart kick-start in overdrive. Sherlock was kneeling on the edge of his bed, hands on his knees. He was leaned slightly forward and his mouth was wide open. Sherlock looked at John in confusion and John mirrored the look. Then Sherlock blushed horribly and closed his mouth, looking away.

"Oh god…" he muttered, "When you told Lestrade…I thought you meant…"

John's eyes widened. He was so shocked he was sure if he didn't receive a shock blanket soon, he'd been in trouble. He thought back on his words and realized that he was definitely in the wrong here. But that didn't mean that Sherlock should just drop to his knees and comply with what John said. Why would he do that anyway? What in the world was going on?

John cleared his throat and attempted to say something. Instead, he just closed his mouth tight and left the room. He had no idea how to face this, but as a rule making a cup of tea usually helped. He slipped the roll of duct tape into his coat as he made his way to the kitchen. He briefly wondered why it felt lighter than before. He shrugged his shoulders and his coat, laying it on the sofa on his way to the kitchen.

When John came out to the living room with his cup of tea, Sherlock was sitting on the sofa looking rather embarrassed. John allowed himself a moment to drink in the rare sight of an embarrassed Sherlock. His face was pink and his eyes were downcast. John thought it was rather cute, actually. He sighed and gently laid his cup on the table.

"What the hell were you doing to Lestrade at the crime scene?" John demanded in a clear voice.

Sherlock jumped violently and twisted his head to look at John. John gave him a hard glare and Sherlock swallowed.

"I was trying to convince him of something," Sherlock said.

"What? To have sex with you?" John snorted.

Sherlock was blushing again, which made John smirk.

"No, I don't wish to have sex with Lestrade," Sherlock said firmly.

"Then why were you doing that?!" John cried, "The man looked positively terrified!"

"He was not receptive to my usual tactics," Sherlock stated in a monotone, "However, he hasn't had sex in at least a month, and so I changed my tactic to play on that particular frustration. And he wasn't terrified, he was aroused."

John scowled at him.

"And what if he'd accepted your false proposal?" John pointed out, "Then you'd be at his flat awkwardly trying to make up some excuse as to why you shouldn't have sex with him."

Sherlock frowned.

"I could have just had sex with him then," Sherlock defended himself.

John picked up his tea cup and threw it at Sherlock with one swift motion. Sherlock easily dodged it, but the tea flew out of the cup and landed on his face. He looked at John with surprise. It was rather comically the way his mouth and eyes were opened wide in Os and his face was dripping with tea. John would have laughed, if he wasn't so pissed off.

"You are unbelievable, Sherlock!" he shouted, jumping up from his chair, "You don't just go around having sex with your friends!"

"Lestrade is not my friend," Sherlock snapped, rising from his perch on the couch.

"He's the closest thing to a friend you've got!" John yelled back, "The man lets you help him with his cases, something that normally wouldn't be allowed!"

"Only because he can't figure it out himself!" Sherlock replied, his own voice raising.

"There's all sorts of cases Scotland Yard couldn't figure out!" John shouted, "But they hardly ever let an outsider look at them! Only you, Sherlock! And only because Lestrade _lets _you! You think you're special because you get to work on their cases, but Lestrade's the one that's letting you do it! And you repay him by fake seducing him so you get what you want from him?!"

"It could have been mutually beneficial!" Sherlock yelled, "Just like the cases are!"

"Mutually beneficial?!" John laughed humorlessly, "Sherlock you don't need to have sex! You don't even want to have sex! You're a machine; it would have just been some mindless action to you!"

"Just because I do not have sex, doesn't mean I do not want to!" Sherlock yelled in response.

John froze, once again in shock. Sherlock seemed to realize what he'd said and looked away. Something seemed entirely wrong with this situation. Sherlock was the cold, distant asexual genius that didn't give anyone a second look. So why was he saying such a thing? They stood there in silence for several minutes before John found his voice.

"Ok, Sherlock, ok," he said calmly, "But just because you want to have sex, doesn't mean you should with Lestrade."

Sherlock scowled at him.

"Who then?" Sherlock demanded, his voice still hot with anger, "Everyone else I have tried to proposition misinterpreted my advances or refused! So who am I supposed to go to?! Lestrade was clearly giving off signs of attraction, why is it so wrong to have sex with him?!"

"Because he's your friend," John stated, "You're going to see him all the time. And there would always be that awkward we-had-sex-one-time feeling in the air. Also, knowing Lestrade, he'd want a relationship, which you would not provide for him. That's why _he _hasn't propositioned _you _before. Because he knows that no matter what he does he will just be an object to you. Something you can boss around. Something that will listen to you and be there for you no matter how many times you insult him. And no matter how much he does for you and how much he loves you, you will never love him back. You won't even realize he loves you. Even though everyone around you tells you he does and he does everything for you and puts up with your bullshit. All the signs are there and you refuse to acknowledge them just because you _think _you're a sociopath."

John finished rather breathlessly, his eyes watering. He rubbed at his face, rather angry at himself. All the things he'd pushed down and tried to suppress were now out in the open, just because he'd gotten jealous. He turned away and stormed up to his bedroom before Sherlock could sputter something that would make him feel worse. He curled up on his bed and pushed the tears away. His chest ached at how helpless he felt.

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**Little note: Angst anyone? Not my original intention, but there you go. Hope you liked it.**


	5. Chapter 5

When John ambled into the living room the next morning, Sherlock wasn't there. He glanced at Sherlock's door to see that it was closed, meaning the man was probably in it. John sighed heavily: almost glad that he didn't have to face the other man after his outburst the day before. He went to the kitchen and went about his normal routine of making tea.

As he went about with his normal day, he started to get a bit worried. Why was Sherlock still in his room? He peeked down the hall and the firmly closed door. _Maybe I should check on him...maybe what I said freaked him out, _John thought as he eyed the door. He sighed heavily and set his cup on the coffee table. He knew there was no way anything would get any better if he didn't do anything about it.

He walked slowly down the hall, tiptoeing for no real reason.

"Sherlock?" he whispered at the door.

He rolled his eyes at himself. _Man up! _He snapped at himself. He cleared his throat and rapped on the door twice.

"Sherlock? You alright in there?" he said in a clear voice.

There was no answer and John leaned closer to the door, trying to hear Sherlock on the other side. He heard nothing and that made his heart quicken.

"Sherlock?" he said a bit louder.

He twisted the knob and swung the door open, afraid what might be on the other side. He chuckled a bit in relief when he saw that Sherlock was sound asleep on his bed. He stepped forward smiling softly at Sherlock's sleeping form. He kind of liked being able to see Sherlock when there were no walls up, no guarded, vacant expressions. It was just Sherlock, in his purest, simplest form.

Sherlock was laying on his right side, facing John. John came to a halt right in front of the sleeping man. John leaned down to look closer at Sherlock's pale, angular face. He brought his fingers up to touch the man's sharp cheekbone. The light streaming through the window hit something right in the corner of John's eye just as John's fingertips touched to the bone that protruded so sharply from Sherlock's face.

John blinked hard and looked to the thing that had caught the light. He blinked at the thing several times before comprehending that there was a thing. He pulled his hand from Sherlock's face and squinted at the thing. It was a tape. It was a DVD to be more exact. _Sherlock went to sleep with a DVD? _John thought briefly. It was laying on the bed right in front of Sherlock's thin stomach. It looked as though it had slipped from Sherlock's arms sometime during the night.

John picked up the tape gingerly, eyeing it suspiciously. His eyes went wide as he looked at it. _This is the…the porn he bought. He went to sleep with the porn…? _The title was some obscene thing that he would rather he hadn't read. The thing that really caught his attention was the picture (which honestly is the thing that normally catches people's attention).

There was one man standing. He had baggy camo pants and a plain white t-shirt. Dog tags hung from his neck and some duct tape was stretched in his hand as though he was about to use it. He had short blonde hair and a wide smirk. There was another man whose back was to the camera. He was leaning back on his elbows at the feet of the blonde. John's heart thumped weirdly as he noted the black hair on the man on the floor.

He looked up from the DVD at the black haired man sleeping on the bed. He looked back to the DVD and something hot bubbled up inside him. _How…what…I can't…why…_John's thoughts bumbled up inside his head. He squinted harder at the case. _This explains the military thing with the clerk and all, _John reasoned, _but why would he get a porn tape with a guy who looks like me on it? And the duct tape? I thought he-_John's eyes went wide.

"Oh," he breathed softly.

_The dilated eyes, the breathing, the jumped heart rate. That can mean arousal as well as fear. I just assumed…and when he said there were things he didn't want me to find out, he meant something completely different. Not just some fantasy or fetish, but that his fantasies have me in them. When…when did this happen? Was it when I started doing the tape? Or was it before that? Or…I don't understand…dammit. Sherlock you can never be simple can you?_

John stared closely at the picture on the case, taking in every detail. _I wonder how he managed to get one that had us look-alikes in it. _He pondered briefly, _but not quite right. His hair isn't curly enough to be Sherlock. Or long enough. And his skin isn't quite pale enough. _John's fingers trailed over the case, as he mentally fixed all the problems with the picture. He smiled as the perfected image arose in his mind.

"_John…" Sherlock gasped._

"_Ah, ah, ah, Sherlock," John said with a wicked grin, "That isn't what I told you to say."_

_Sherlock looked up at him with wide, dilated eyes. His face was flushed and his chest heaved up and down as he took gasping breaths._

"_Please master," Sherlock whispered._

"_Good boy," John commended._

_He stretches out a piece of duct tape and leans forward. He can't help the satisfied smile on his face as he starts to-_

"JOHN!" Sherlock screamed, effectively jarring John from his fantasy.

The DVD ripped from his hands and John looked up, startled. Sherlock clutched the DVD to his chest, staring at John with anger and shock. John cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to wipe away the remains of the daydream.

"Sherlock, listen, I didn't-," John started.

"NO! SHUT UP!" Sherlock screamed, cutting John off.

John stepped back in alarm. Sherlock stared at him with a mix of fear, anger and something that John couldn't quite read. Sherlock had hot tears in his eyes and John felt a pang in his chest.

"Y-y-y-you!" Sherlock sputtered, "I-i-I said d-d-don't! AND YOU DID! I-I-I thought we w-were fr-friends!"

John felt his own anger rise at that.

"REALLY Sherlock?!" John yelled back, "As many times as you've invaded my privacy and insulted him and this one fucking time I do something you don't like suddenly WE'RE FRIENDS AND FRIENDS DON"T DO THAT! Well I hate to fucking tell you Sherlock, we're not normal FRIENDS! WE'RE SOME AWKWARD COUPLING of I don't fucking know!"

John refocused on Sherlock who looked rather shocked and he had tears streaming down his face. John's heart hurt at the raw look in Sherlock's eyes. He hated that hot emotion splayed across Sherlock's face. Something wet touched his face and he blinked in surprise. He lifted his fingers up and touched the salty water on his face. _I'm crying..._John's thoughts ran sluggish as he looked from his wetted fingertips to Sherlock.

He fell to his knees as something dark ripped through his chest. Something icy and sharp pierced through him. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to stop the aching inside him. There was a soft thump in front of him. He looked up in bewilderment to see Sherlock kneeling in front of him, still clutching the DVD to his chest with one hand. The other hand was reaching hesitantly towards John.

John watched as Sherlock's hand stretched towards him and pressed against his own hand which was still pressed to his chest. John looked at their hands for a long moment and then slowly looked up at Sherlock's face. Sherlock was looking at their hands pressed together with a look of wonder on his face. John noted the way the sunlight streamed through Sherlock's hair, casting interesting shaped shadows on the man's sharp face.

Sherlock's face turned up and his curls shifted backwards, opening up like curtains that were shoved aside to see the beautiful sunlight on the other side. Sherlock's face was bright like a candle in an otherwise dark room. John was struck by how much light and heat he felt coming off of Sherlock. Sherlock had called him a conductor of light and now John felt as though all his light had come from the brilliant spark that was Sherlock.

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**Little note: So...er...yeah. I hope you liked it. I really tried to capture some feeling in here. Hopefully you guys felt that. Anyway, thank you all for your support!**


	6. Chapter 6

They were still kneeling on the floor when Mrs. Hudson found them. She didn't comment on their positions, merely said that Lestrade was out in the living room. Then she smiled knowingly at them and left. John coughed, slightly embarrassed, but unwilling to move from where he was. Sherlock was the first to move and John would be lying if he said that didn't hurt at least a little bit. Sherlock's hand slowly lifted off of John's. John made a pathetic whimpering sound as Sherlock backed away and stood.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He merely gave John a said smile and stuck the DVD under his pillow. He cast another sad smile at John as he left the room. John sighed heavily and the hand on his chest curled into a fist as his eyes closed tightly. He was pretty sure he was just going to kill Lestrade and be done with it. The grey-headed man was always ruining whatever was going on.

John pushed himself off the ground and ambled into the next room where Sherlock and Lestrade were talking. Lestrade was sitting in John's chair and Sherlock was sitting in his own. Sherlock threw a heated look at John that made John swallow thickly. John turned away and went to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea.

When he returned he came to stand behind Sherlock, leaning down on the chair until he was nearly bent in half. He purposely directed his breath to Sherlock's ear and watched as the detective squirmed. He smirked in satisfaction and leaned until his lips were practically on Sherlock's ear. He lifted a hand to curtain his mouth from Lestrade's eyes and ears.

"Apologize," John whispered in a firm, husky voice.

Sherlock shivered as John drew back and his eyes became unfocused. He seemed to be struggling to pay attention to what Lestrade was saying. John's eyes flickered to the other man's crotch and he was very satisfied with what he found. Sherlock listened to Lestrade detailing the case though he looked like he wanted to be somewhere far, far away. John leaned back down.

"Apologize," he pressed more firmly.

"I heard you the first time!" Sherlock whispered back in a snappish tone.

John's hand came to rest on the man's other shoulder and he squeezed tightly.

"Don't backtalk, Sherlock," John whispered in silent warning.

Sherlock shivered again and stood abruptly. Lestrade sputtered to a halt and looked up in confusion.

"Lestrade, I need to apologize," Sherlock said firmly, "I'm very sorry that I tried to seduce you last night. That was extremely unfair of me and I was only doing it for my own gain."

Lestrade blushed and looked away.

"Apology accepted," he muttered.

"I must also apologize for how I've treated you in general," Sherlock said, his eyebrows coming together, "I'm a very cold person and I realize that I have not been the greatest…friend to you. Though you have been to me. So I hope you accept my apology and come with me, John and my brother to breakfast tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock."

Lestrade looked stunned for a moment.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Lestrade said quietly, "Text me the place and let me know when you can get some of your paperwork done."

"Sounds lovely," John supplied.

Lestrade stood up and held out a hand to Sherlock who shook it briefly.

"You really don't care to hear about how I apprehended the murderer, do you?" he questioned tiredly.

"Not really, no," Sherlock answered honestly.

"I just like telling you," Lestrade said, shrugging his shoulders, "So you can see how your brain helps out the Yard's brawn. Anyway, I'll go now. I smell strong sexual tension in the air."

John blushed and Sherlock had the decency to look embarrassed. Lestrade left and Sherlock remained where he was standing. John didn't move from his position behind the chair either for a very long time. After a while he started towards the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea, Sherlock?" John asked as though nothing was going on.

"No," Sherlock said firmly, grabbing John's wrist and pulling him around to face him, "No tea. Just you."

John gasped as Sherlock's searing lips crashed into his own. Sherlock's mouth trailed down his jaw leaving burning kisses as he went. He pressed John until he bumped into the wall and he rocked his hips into John's. John sputtered as Sherlock's nimble fingers worked at his fly. This wasn't exactly what John had had in mind when he thought he was going to have sex with Sherlock…

"Sh-Sherlock!" John shouted.

Sherlock looked up and his eyes were shining bright with fierce passion. When John didn't say anything he continued on, his hand now delving into John's jeans and maneuvering around John's red pants. He smirked, the motion causing his lips to brush against John's cheek.

"Well, this is awkward," came Lestrade's voice from the doorway.

John sent a glare the other man's way and growled at him.

"What the hell do you want, Lestrade?" John demanded as intimidatingly as he could with Sherlock's hand down his trousers.

"Dropped my phone," Lestrade said, awkwardly moving around them and going to the chair where his phone was sitting on the cushion.

John glared the man down until he left the flat.

"I think I might actually kill that guy," John decided out loud, "He ruins everything."

Sherlock laughed loudly and laid his head on John's shoulder.

"Sorry, this just seems laughable to me now," Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, really?" John snapped, "I see nothing funny here."

He crossed his arms and tried to pout (which was difficult considering Sherlock's hand was _still _down his trousers). Sherlock lifted his head and pressed gentle kisses to John's cheek and jaw.

"Now, now, don't be like that," Sherlock whispered.

John glared firmly in a different direction, though he could feel heat rising back in him as Sherlock's hand began to move again.

"Jawwnn," Sherlock moaned, "Come on. Don't pout."

John refused to look back at Sherlock as the tall man's slender fingers grasped him tightly still inside his trousers and pants.

"John, come on," Sherlock said again, sounding a bit more irritated.

John grabbed Sherlock's shirt and whirled him around so he was the one with his back to the wall. Sherlock's hand had slipped out in surprise. John gripped the detective's shirt in his fists and pulled the man down so he was eye level with him.

"I think we both know how this going to work, Sherlock," he said in a low, husky voice, "_You _will not be giving _me _orders."

Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded jerkily.

"Good boy," John whispered, loosening his grip on Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock shivered at the words.

"Wh-what…do you want me to do?" Sherlock asked, trying hard to restrain his eagerness and arousal.

John smirked at Sherlock and Sherlock swallowed again.

"First thing you're going to do is go into your room," John said in a dangerously low voice, "And prepare yourself for me."

Sherlock wobbled slightly and gripped John's forearms to steady himself.

"Then you're going to come out here," John continued.

He pulled Sherlock further down and put his lips right on the other man's ear.

"And you're going fuck yourself on my cock," John finished in a breathy whisper, "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Sherlock moaned into John's ear in response. John felt a shiver go down his own spine at the sound. He let go of Sherlock's shirt and the other man stumbled towards his room. John watched with satisfaction as Sherlock tripped over himself. God was he going to enjoy this.

He went and sat in his chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He had to shudder at his own forcefulness. He hoped he hadn't gone too far with it. He opened an eye and peeked at Sherlock's closed door. _Maybe this is too much, too fast…_John thought worriedly. He closed his eye back and tried to reason it all out. _I want Sherlock. Sherlock wants me. Why should it matter?...then again, Sherlock doesn't do emotions, but I do. And I know I love the prick…but I doubt he would ever love me like that. I suppose I can just be content with this…_

_Maybe Sherlock will grow to love me, _John thought hopefully, _he seemed to have quite a bit of emotion this morning…maybe it isn't too much to think that maybe one day we'll be together. Ugh. I don't know. All I know is I want him pretty badly right now. God, I feel like a horny teenager…_

Suddenly, hesitant hands were on his trousers. He hadn't bothered to zip himself back up, so to Sherlock it probably looked like he was just sitting there waiting for Sherlock to do as instructed. He kept his eyes closed as Sherlock freed his cock from the clothing. Sherlock climbed up on his lap and John lazily opened his eyes.

Sherlock's face was flushed in a wonderful way and he was already breathing heavily. The taller man positioned himself straight over John and lowered himself slowly. John hissed as his prick entered Sherlock and Sherlock let out a throaty moan. Sherlock lowered himself all the way down, panting heavily, his eyes squeezed closed. John had to admit it was a wonderful sight.

Sherlock gasped as his ass hit John's lap and he leaned forward slightly. His hands gripped the back of the chair behind John's shoulders. His eyes opened slightly and he squinted at John. John smirked at him, pleased with his current position.

"God you're big," Sherlock groaned, "You're huge. Or maybe it's just because it's been so long. God, so full. Oh god. Approximately 13.5 girth. 17 length."

John frowned at Sherlock's measurements. _How the hell did he know that?_ Sherlock suddenly started moving, sliding up and down on John, who gasped at the suddenly stimulation. Sherlock moaned in an obscene way that made John buck up against him. John pried his eyes back up, just becoming aware that he'd closed them. Sherlock's hands had moved to his chest and he bounced up and down with apparent ease. This was when John noticed that Sherlock's button-down shirt was hanging unbuttoned around his shoulders, the sleeves falling past his hands.

"God, you are sexy," John gasped out.

Sherlock made a whining noise and opened his eyes to look at John. John gripped the arms of the chair as Sherlock's fell back and he moaned obscenely. John watched intently as Sherlock bobbed up and down, moaning and writing. He smirked slightly, taking great pride in knowing that he didn't even have to move to undo Sherlock like this. John couldn't wait to take this man apart, a fact that excited him and frightened him at the same time.

John moved his hands settling them on Sherlock's sharp hips, resting them there until he was ready to use them. Sherlock was groaning and panting, all thought and discretion apparently thrown out the window. John could hardly stand the way Sherlock didn't even try to hold anything back. Every moan and grunt and gasp was thrown into the air as he moved up and down. John shivered from it all, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"Jawwnn?" Sherlock questioned in a moan, slumping forward slightly.

His forehead hovered mere inches away from John's and his hands moved back to the back of the chair to get a better hold on something. John looked up at him in wonder. How was it that a funny little army doctor got _this? _This hot, sexy mess that was the brilliant Sherlock Holmes. John could barely wrap his head around it.

"Jawwnn, what's wrong?" Sherlock groaned, not wavering in his movements.

"You just look like a proper whore, fucking yourself on my cock," John said, his mouth reacting before his brain did.

He really had no idea where some of this shit came from, but Sherlock smiled in response.

"Your whore," Sherlock whispered.

John squirmed underneath Sherlock, avoiding the burning gaze Sherlock was directing at him.

"Just mine?" John questioned hesitantly, still refusing to look the other man in the eyes.

"Yes," Sherlock said, pressing his forehead to John's, "Just yours. All yours. Only yours."

"Are you just saying that in the heat of the moment?" John probed.

He hated himself for ruining this moment with his pathetic emotions, but he had to know what it was they were doing. He needed to mentally prepare himself for whatever they were going to do. Sherlock slowed to a stop, whimpering slightly. He relaxed against John and put his lips to John's ear.

"John," Sherlock whispered in his beautiful silk voice, "I just want you. I've never wanted anyone so badly. I want everything about you. I want your voice, your touch, your grip, your orders, your tea, your blog, your silly nagging, your _love_, John. I want it. I need it. I need it so bad; worse than any drug I've ever taken. I don't know how long it's been that I needed it, but when you started taping my mouth…I just felt this spark inside me, this heat. Longing. Needing. Wanting. So if you're done with your little girly emotional moment, I'm going to continue."

John laughed and made a "Be my guest" gesture with his hands. Sherlock eagerly started back up again. Later on, long after they were both spent, John laid next Sherlock, staring groggily at the other man's sleeping face. He smiled lazily. Why had he ever been worried that this wouldn't work? Sure, it wasn't normal, but there was hardly anything normal when it came to Sherlock and John. And John found, as he drifted happily to sleep, he didn't mind in the least.

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**Little note: ( _ ) This chapter is like twice as long as the previous chapters. And it's the end. Hope you guys liked my kinky little story! ^_^ Love all of you cute little fuckers!**


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